First Times
by jarec
Summary: They're always special, no matter the circumstances.
1. Chapter 1

You never forget your first.

First times are special. Everyone knows that, no matter who you have it with or when. Even the Teen Titans remember their first times (those who've had them). Although the Titans are as close to one another as any family, they've never discussed it among themselves and likely never will.

Beastboy's first time occurred in a moment of primal passion. One terrifying, ecstatic moment when the green hero let go of all his human hang-ups, neurosis, and moralizing and embraced his animal instincts. The funny thing was, Beastboy hadn't been aware of his feelings until it was all over, and by then of course it was too late to change anything. It was all over in a matter of minutes (though at the time it felt much longer), but the impact of that moment changed him radically. In truth, he's more than a little ashamed of it- he feels that he should have stayed in control.

Starfire's first time remains a cherished memory for her, one that she turns back to whenever she feels sad or helpless. It was a joyous explosion of emotion that let out years of repressed feelings. She will never forget the look on his face when she made her feelings clear- the surprise, the disbelief, and most of all, his inability to believe that she felt this way about HIM. That of all her options (and there were many, at the time) she chose to do this with him. She doesn't talk about it, but not because she feels it is shameful or embarrassing. Rather, she knows that Terrans do not think about such matters in the same way that her people do, and she doesn't want to make her friends uncomfortable.

Cyborg's first time was… debatable. It happened after a wild party in his high school days. Like everyone else he'd been drinking, and his judgment wasn't everything it should have been. He took a ride home with a girl he sort of knew from school- not friends, but more than acquaintances. One thing lead to another, and by the end of the night, the boy had become a man. Most of those who know the details insist that it doesn't count, and Cyborg will readily admit that their arguments make sense. But in his heart, he feels differently. He feels ashamed of how his judgment slipped, and how much it changed his friendships in High School.

Raven's first time was the result of a moment of weakness. She abandoned a lifetime of Azerathian self-control for just one second when she'd first come to Earth, and it happened. It was with a guy she barely knew, and would never see again. She hates herself for that weakness, hates what happened, and for the fallout of the event. She hates the way what she did challenged her view of herself. But most of all, she hates herself for having enjoyed that sensation of release, and for craving it even now.

Robin has not yet had his first time- his...unusual upbringing has prevented him from being able to do so. Indeed, he has no idea that any of his team mates have had theirs. Far from being burdened by this, the Boy Wonder is proud of having preserved his innocence. This same pride makes the other Titans uncomfortable, and prevents them from sharing their experiences with one another. The Titans don't talk about the subject much- as is understandable among a group of young people.

But they never forget their first.


	2. Chapter 2

Beastboy and the Doom Patrol were preparing to attack a smuggler's den, located on a small island in Indonesia. Mento suspected that they were a low-level part of the Brain's criminal empire- being used to move weapons and people across borders at need. It was therefore important that they be eliminated before any further action could be taken.

Mento's plan to achieve this goal was to divide the group in three. Negative Man would infiltrate the base using his "soul self" to slip in undetected and provide reconnaissance information to the rest of the team. Elastigirl and Robot man would stage a frontal assault, relying on her size and his strength, with Negative Man continuing to disrupt the enemy from within the base. This was considered to be fairly low-risk, since the smugglers had not displayed any weaponry more powerful than assault rifles. Given Robotman's armor and Elastigirl's sheer size, these were not a real threat to them. Mento, whose abilities did not lend themselves to heavy combat, would act as a coordinator for the group.

By this time, Beastboy had been serving with the team for a number of years, and had become a trusted (if not always respected) member of the group, usually in a reconnaissance or infiltration role. In truth, he'd begun to hunger for a chance to prove himself in combat. Mento had, therefore, assigned him an important task in the plan. He was to quietly move around the base and then attack from the side, flanking the defenders and destroying whatever cohesion they managed to muster. Beastboy smirked as he approached the base. They were so focused on the thirty foot woman and robotic giant attacking their front gate, they didn't notice the green tiger slowly creeping up on them.

Until he saw one of the guards pull a missile launcher from the back of a truck and take aim at Elastigirl. The smirk on the man's face made Beastboy's blood boil- he'd lost his parents once before, and he didn't want to lose another set. That's when his vision went red.

Later on, with the benefit of hindsight, it would be painfully clear what had gone wrong. While Beastboy was, even then, an experienced shape shifter, he hadn't had much experience in using his forms in combat. This, combined with the emotional reaction of seeing someone aiming a deadly weapon at his surrogate mother, caused him to lose control of the instincts of his chosen form.

He surged forward and struck the guard from behind, knocking him to the ground. The man dropped his weapon and screamed, his legs scrambling frantically as he tried to escape. His companions, seeing their comrade being attacked by some kind of demonic beast, fled screaming. Meanwhile, the tiger clawed great rents in the man's body, roaring all the while. The scent of blood only made things worse, and Beastboy gave up all semblance of control. He became a tiger in mind as well as body. The last thing he registered before all reason fled was the taste of blood flooding his mouth, hot and coppery and so VERY satisfying.

Hours later, Mento was able to bring Garfield back into control of his own body. By then, the Doom Patrol had managed to restrain the green tiger and take it away from the now-ruined smugglers den. Even once that was accomplished, it took them another hour to calm the hysterical boy down enough to learn what had happened. Using Mento's money and influence (Steve Dayton's companies had a great deal of pull in the region) they were able to keep the event quiet, and no legal repercussions ever occurred, not even when one smugglers body turned up badly mangled and partially eaten. The team moved on, never speaking of it.

But Beastboy never forgot. And he was never able to eat meat again. Not because the taste was nauseating, nor because of his shape shifting abilities. Quite the contrary, the scent of meat cooked or raw sets his stomach rumbling and his mouth watering. But because the taste of meat brought back the memory of that one savage moment, and of a taste that his animal instincts still called out for. He can't tell anyone this, of course, so he came up with the excuse of having been most of the animals people eat. He feels bad lying to his friends, of course, but he'd feel even worse revealing the truth.

Starfire's escape from the Citadel was a matter of long preparation. She'd spent many cycles slowly using low-powered starbolts to weaken her restraints, while she did her best to memorize the layout of the prison she was in. Eventually, when she was ready, she snapped her bonds and made her escape. Later on, she would tell her earthly friends that she had headed straight for the shuttle bays to steal a ship, but this was not quite true.

In truth, Starfire had spent her first minutes of freedom silently creeping towards the office of the prison commander. The commander, a Gordanian in the direct employ of the Psions, had taken great pleasure in tormenting the Tamaranian girl. He had never struck her, nor starved her, nor done anything that might physically damage her. His masters desired their experimental subjects to be untouched by outside forces, after all. No, instead he had delighted in attacking her mind and her spirit.

Every so often he would come down to her cell and remind her of just how she had been betrayed. How her parents had given her up to his people and, through them, the Psions. How the great powers of the galaxy- the Green Lantern Corps especially- would never come to save her. He would snidely comment on the royal rags she wore, or how noble and queenly her whimpering sounded. He would speculate aloud about what would happen to her if she managed to survive all of the Psions experiments and they tired of her. He would frequently express the hope that his masters would reward his service by giving the princess of Tamaran to him as a personal plaything. Leeringly, he would describe what he hoped to be allowed to do to her. Such lurid descriptions featured heavily in Koriand'r's nightmares.

Over the course of her captivity, Koriand'r had found in surprisingly difficult to truly HATE the Psions who experimented on her. She feared them greatly, and very much wished to escape them, but she could not hate them. They were too alien, too machine-like and unemotional, for Starfire to think of them as being actual people and worthy of such a personal emotion. But the prison commander was a different matter- his cruelty was born of pure sadism, and she hated him with a passion. In her mind, he became a symbol for all the pain and indignities she had suffered since her captivity. Now was the time for revenge.

She found him in his office, shouting into a communicator, trying to co-ordinate the search for the escaped prisoner. Looking in at him from the slightly opened door, his features were contorted by fear and stress. She imagined his masters would be most displeased to hear that their favored research subject had escaped or been killed, and the commander was trying to find some way to avoid their wrath. As she neared the door, she heard him ordering guards to the escape dock and the Psions laboratory- apparently believing she would either rush to escape, to free the other prisoners in the facility, or attempt vengeance on the Psions. He didn't seem to realize the depths of her hatred for him. With a smile, the first one she'd had since her capture, she kicked down the door.

Starfire would never forget the moments that followed- they became cherished memories that she would look back on when times were hard for her. The look on the Gordanian's face when he saw her enter the room, a lit starbolt in her hand. His expression went from hope, to disbelief, to fear. The glow of the starbolt as it streaked across the room. The sound it made as it impacted on his chest- a sizzling, cracking sound that almost seemed to echo. The way his flesh crisped and smoked as it gave way before the incandescent green energy. Most of all, though, she remembers the look in his eyes as his body fell, a bizarrely hurt and confused expression, as though the universe itself had betrayed him. It was truly glorious.

Although Starfire cherishes those memories, they are also a source of discomfort for her. She knows how committed her friends (her new family) are to preserving life, even the lives of their enemies. She knows they would never really understand what she'd done, so she keeps it to herself. It does not please her to hide things from her friends, but it would pain her more to see disgust or judgment in their eyes. In a way, she almost finds it funny- her friends believe her to be "a book which is open" and so would never think that she's hiding something this big from them. So she smiles and pretends that one of the most joyous moments of her life never occurred.

Cyborg's first time happened way back when he was just Victor Stone, just a few months before the accident that nearly killed him. Victor was a member of the football team, having just made first string that year. The season had just ended, and although they hadn't made it to the championship, the team was still in high enough spirits to throw a massive party. It was being held outside Metropolis, at the country home of one wealthy teammate's parents, and it seemed like the whole school was invited. Victor had arrived early in the day with the rest of the team, and they'd spent the day having fun at the lake. As day turned to night, other students had started arriving. Someone set up a music system, someone else made punch and the real party got started.

Victor wasn't entirely sure when they brought out the alcoholic punch. He knew it hadn't been alcoholic when the party started, but by ten o'clock he was having trouble standing upright. Now, this was the teenager's first experience with alcohol, but he was no fool. He knew he was in no condition to drive so he made arrangements with the host to leave his car at the lake house overnight ("Huh? Oh, oh yeah man. Sure you can leave it here! Sure y'can. I'm pre- pretty sure it'll be fine") then set about looking for a ride home. It seemed like a fruitless quest, as all the other guests seemed to have had at least as much to drink as him. He had a few offers, but he knew enough not to get into a car with someone who was obviously drunk.

Finally, just as he was about to give out and find a quiet patch of floor to sleep on, Victor felt a small hand cautiously tap him on the shoulder. He looked down to see a shy, blonde girl with large glasses looking up at him hopefully. After a second, his alcohol-sodden brain managed to dredge up her name: Emily, a girl who sat beside him in History class. She timidly told him that she had a car, that she hadn't been drinking and, best of all, that she would be happy to take him home.

Victor was no fool- he could tell Emily was taking the opportunity to act on a longtime crush. But at this point, he'd take any ride he could get and she seemed sober. Besides, she seemed nice enough- what was it Grandpa Stone had once said? 'When you're fishing for love, cast your net wide'. He agreed and the pair headed out back to find her car. Along the way, Emily stumbled twice over what seemed to be nothing at all. Once they reached the car, it took her three tries to get the key into the door lock. All of this Victor noticed with growing concern.

'Is she drunk? I mean, poor motor control an' trippin' over your own feet aren't great signs. I ought to take the keys away from her. We can go back inside and either find another ride or crash there for the night. ' he thought to himself. However, before he could act, he gave a bone-cracking yawn. The night's events seemed to catch up with him all at once. He just wanted to go home. 'On the other hand, she's probably just nervous bein' in a car with a super-stud like me. I'm sure she'll be fine.'

Victor was never entirely certain exactly what happened that night. He remembered that Emily's driving had been a little suspect, and more than a little fast, but again he wrote this off as nerves. The final error came when they were about halfway home. According to the police reports, the car had wandered across the line into the oncoming lane just in time to smash head on into a van. Emily, who hadn't been wearing her seat belt, went straight through the windshield. Victor, who had buckled up, merely bruised his nose and cracked two teeth.

Afterwards, Victor spent a lot of time talking to people about what had happened. Everyone agreed that what had happened was not his fault- other partygoers testified that Emily had told him she hadn't had a drink, that Victor had no way of knowing she was lying. Even the girl's parents told him that he wasn't at fault.

But Victor knew better- he'd seen the signs of intoxication, seen them and ignored them because he was tired. If he'd acted, if he'd taken the keys away from her, Emily would still be alive today. He carried that with him, and he always would. Even today, he regards it as the night his childhood ended- when responsibility came crashing down on him. That was the night he went from Boy to Man.

Raven is a liar. She knows it, and she hates it. One of many things she hates about herself.

Whenever the Titans ask about her first days on Earth, newly arrived from Azerath, she tells them that not much happened. She went to the movies, read some books, tried to get a feel for the culture of her new home. Very tumultuous for her, but not really eventful. The truth is, during that time Raven immersed herself in a world of new experiences- new foods, new music, new kinds of art, and so many different kinds of PEOPLE. Azerath had always been a very homogenous place- as might be expected of a community of monks and philosophers- and Raven had never imagined anything as wonderful as the sheer diversity of Earth. In her entire life (all fourteen years of it) she'd never felt so pleasantly overwhelmed.

But best of all was that she didn't seem to be having any problems with her emotions. Oh, she'd had some small incidents- a mailbox had exploded the first time she'd tried a strawberry milkshake, for example. But they were small and unimportant accidents- not the world shaking calamities that Azar and the other monks had predicted. Nobody was hurt, and no one was blaming her, and so Raven allowed herself to be cautiously optimistic for the first time in her life. She would learn how to balance her emotions and her abilities, she would learn to enjoy life on Earth, and when the time came she would defeat her father!

In later years Raven would mentally compare this time in her life to a comic strip she saw once. It was a recurring scene where a little girl held a football for a boy to kick, only to pull it away at the last minute.

It happened one night, as Raven was walking back to the cheap apartment building she stayed at. She had spent the night at the movies, absorbing as much as she could of the culture and slang of the society she was going to be living in. Or at least, that was what she told herself since she could not, obviously, go out purely for her own enjoyment. Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to see that it was almost midnight- much later than she'd thought it was. Raven recalled that she had an early day tomorrow- she had to get to the art dealer at eight if she wanted to sell another piece of Azerathian sculpture (which she sold as 'modern art' for good prices) and thus be able to pay rent for the month. She decided to cut through a large park to shave some time off her walk back home.

In the days before the Teen Titans formed, Jump City was a very different place than it would become. While never as bad as Gotham or Central City, Jump still had a fairly high crime rate. Like in many cities, crime was especially prevalent in isolated areas, where police patrols and surveillance were light if not totally nonexistent. Places like alleys, industrial zones, sidestreets… and public parks.

Raven heard the sound of rapid footsteps behind her, and felt a hand close around her throat. Before she could react she was shoved to the ground. She saw her assailants then, two young men only a few years older than her. One of them, a red head in a white t-shirt, gave her a singularly unpleasant grin which showed a few missing teeth. He made a few remarks about pretty little girls going through places they shouldn't, and about having to pay for it one way or another, but honestly Raven didn't hear him.

Perhaps it was the violence of the assault. Or perhaps it was the crude, leering looks the two youths were giving her, letting their eyes run up and down her body. These are both possible, but Raven knows they are unlikely. The most probable explanation is that Raven had been allowing herself more and more emotional expression since arriving on Earth. Her long habit of self-control and repression was broken. Now, freed at last, her anger gave vent to her demonic heritage.

First Raven grew warm, much warmer than she should have felt on a late autumn night. (Her blood temperature spiked, heating her body and reddening her skin). Then, she felt extreme pain in her fingers and hands, as though someone were stretching them. (Her hands reshaped themselves into talons, complete with long black nails). Her teeth ached in ways she'd only ever read about, and even her jaw seemed to hurt. (Her teeth lengthened and sharpened, turning into the fangs of a demon as her jaw broadened to hold them). Most alarmingly, her vision broadened and sharpened- suddenly she could see much more of her surroundings, in far better detail and without any hindrance from the darkness. (Another pair of blood-red eyes opened on her forehead). She felt vibrant, alive, and POWERFUL in ways she'd never thought she could.

'Jonesy' was halfway out of the park long before Raven rose from the ground. Raven checked up on him, afterwards, and discovered that the young man spent a year in a mental institution after reporting what he'd seen. Once he was released, he turned his life around and became a model citizen. That provided her with some consolation.

His compatriot, whom she later found out was named Clarence Sputtler was not so quick to flee. Whether it was shock or terror that rooted him to the spot was impossible to say. Raven didn't care at the time, and later was… well, it was too late. Quick as a flash, Raven was up off the ground and in his face. In single, swift motion she tore his head from his neck. Blood spurted from the stump of his neck, splashing across Raven's face and bringing her back to her senses. Her blood cooled and her body restored itself to its normal state. The empath looked down at what she'd done, and was messily sick. She was sickened not only by what she'd done but by what she was. She'd spent years denying that her father's influence on her was as deep as she'd been told, but here was proof of her demon blood. Around her, the grass burst into flames in response to her emotions.

When she'd regained her composure, Raven looked at the scene with as dispassionate an eye as she could. She couldn't just leave things as they were, that much was certain. A headless corpse, surrounded by a circular area of scorched earth? That would raise too many questions. Nor could she do the honest thing and tell the proper authorities- cathartic though confession would be, it would ultimately doom this world. Her father was coming for her, and for whatever universe she happened to be in. If she was to stand any chance at all of resisting him and defending her new home, she would need allies- allies who possessed not only physical strength, but moral strength to resist the corruptions of a demon lord. Allies who would not be willing to assist a murderess.

Raven summoned her magic, and teleported herself and the remains of her assailant away. She took it out to the ocean, and used her telekinesis to send it to the bottom and wedge it underneath a large rock. She hoped that would be good enough.

Raven could never quite put the incident from her mind. It wasn't the guilt of what she'd done- the truth was, Raven knew she hadn't really been in control at that point and couldn't truly be held accountable for what she'd done. Nor was it the horror of the killing itself that haunted her, for gruesome as it was, in her years as a Titan she came to see things that were just as bad if not worse. No, what pressed on her most was of how GOOD it felt- in the moment of the kill, Raven had felt truly and completely whole for the only time in her life. Even when she defeated her father and managed to (briefly) balance her emotions, she still kept the demonic part of herself walled off. But for one moment, one brief and bloody moment, Raven had been holding nothing back- she had been able to experience the entirety of who and what she was. To have experienced being whole and then to have to consciously deny it for the rest of her life was, in her mind, a fitting punishment for her crime.

Each of the four Titans keeps their first time a secret from their team mates. It's not easy, and it has caused them each more than a few troubled nights, but they manage. Perhaps ironically, if they ever broke down and shared with one another, it would become much easier for them. They would be able to support one another, and help work through the memories and emotions that weigh them down. Even Starfire, whose first time is a source of secret joy, would feel better for sharing- the act of keeping secrets is anathema to the Tamaranian princess. But there is one thing that prevents this: Robin.

Robin has never taken a life. In large part, this is due to his training by Batman- the Dark Knight had worked hard to instill in his protégé the same reverence for human life that he himself holds. Robin constantly works to ensure that there are no accidents, no lost control, and no possible way that he could kill without intending to. In his mind, it's simple: If you take a life, no matter the circumstance, you have no business calling yourself a superhero, much less a Titan. He's unaware that this same moral certainty intimidates those of his team mates who have guilty consciences and strengthens their resolve to keep their secrets. So the situation continues, with four of the five heroes haunted by their pasts…

...Because as much as you might try to, you never forget your first.

A/N  
>This ones been kicking around my head for YEARS. It started when I noticed that pretty much all the angst stories boiled down to 'X loves Y and it hurts because reasons'. I'm not knocking such stories- they can be very good- but angst can mean a lot more than heartache, especially for superheroes. That's what triggered this.<br>What did you think?  
>EDIT: Um. Having looked at the first reviews of this story I feel I should clarify: What did you think OF THE STORY?<p> 


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